When I was 18, young and energetic and restless, I told myself that after A Levels, I would join as many environmental groups as I could, see which ones I fit best in, drop out of those that I don’t enjoy, and finally end up with a neat set of organisations I love.
It didn’t turn out like that at all. Joining one takes time and effort, and you want to invest your 110% into playing your part well. You don’t want to let people down. Later, it’s difficult to leave a group too. We form bonds with the people we work with over time, and we don’t want to break our friends’ hearts by simply coming and going. There’s also bound to be the potential pushbacks we struggle to handle, like ‘Please stay, I’ll give you less work to do!’ or ‘What if I offer you a higher position?’
I’m not saying that members of an organisation shouldn’t try to persuade someone from not leaving the organisation. If I had a loyal teamplayer whom I loved working with, I would very well do the same myself. Instead, this article is a take on how to identify the red flags that even made you think about leaving and not doubting yourself why. It took me very long to discover, and so I thought I’ll share it here.
While two environmental organisations might generally have the same goals, values and mission, each organisation has a unique character and modus operandi. And when your personal values and goals do not align with the organisation, then no matter how nice the people generally might be, you know it’s time for you to leave. And it’s difficult, because you have to separate the organisational personality from your friends’ personalities; to accept that you are uncomfortable with the former while loving the latter (and then rack your brains trying to figure out how to explain this to your friend tactfully so they don't take it personally!).
Having volunteered with different environmental organisations across the spectrum, here are some of my experiences so far. Please also note that all views are my own, and definitely do not represent the landscape of environmental organisations as a whole.
One of the biggest pain points that generates much disillusionment for me is the rather capitalistic way that some organisations are run. I’m not referring to a sustainable business (I’ve never worked in one), I’m referring to non-profits or ground-up volunteer groups. By ‘capitalistic’ I mean, one where you feel valued only if you work, and feel pressurised or looked down upon if you take a break. The work culture is competitive; if not about intra-organisation competition, then about competing with other organisations, whether for awards or mere statistical impact. Beating other organisations is prized above other concerns, even if deep inside ourselves, we know the lightly bloated figures we report or the additional hundreds recorded on paper is hardly reflective of actual impact. ‘Race’, ‘beat’, ‘compete’ are common vocabulary in the organisation’s lingua franca. Often, it also feels that the organisation is encouraging this as a basis to motivate people to work. And even if we move towards collaboration or extending publicity support, it feels calculative and compulsorily on a mutual basis.
Wanting to be valued more than my output. But didn't you sign up for this work? Isn't it your responsibility to work? It’s difficult to hammer this feeling down into words without being misunderstood — it's not the same as being given carte blanche to do work anyhow you like, or being given leeway to be irresponsible and lazy. Instead, this ‘capitalistic’ feeling is best described as a constant discomfort or stress that you aren’t doing enough, but at the same time you know you can’t take on any more than you already are. But you don’t dare to voice it out, because everyone else around you is doing so much more, voicing out about it feels like a petty complaint. And so you work harder and harder, and stress and stress because it’s still, not enough.
On the other hand, I’m deeply grateful to organisations that make me feel that I am worth more than my output. An organisational culture that centres on the individual and their inherent value as a person, not the output. Where in meetings, people tell us we are enough and please don’t feel pressured to do more. Work isn’t framed as a competition to ‘beat’ any other organisations. Instead, the work is regenerative and motivation comes from sincerely believing in the purpose of the work we do. We ask difficult questions, share interesting articles and discuss candidly about them. Here, other organisations aren’t called ‘competitors’, they’re ‘allies’. The leader may even talk about how it’s perfectly okay for the organisation to collapse, if its purpose fades into the background after a while. I think this shows a stronger focus on the meaning of work and non-obsession with corporate branding and name.
I also feel tired of being in some organisations that always choose the risk-free approach. They steer clear of difficult environmental questions and adopt a selective messaging approach with safe language. They prefer to work within the same old boundaries and fear being disruptive. I’m not saying that we should be always antagonistic and oppose the government’s environmental policies at every turn; of course there are some that I support whole-heartedly. But in cases where environmental policies are clearly stagnating, or even regressing, isn’t it more important to be critical and speak the truth openly than to conveniently ignore them? Isn’t it more crucial to be sincere and consistent with our environmental messaging than to be politically correct? If we say the same thing as everyone else, then what impact are we making? None. There is no point to perpetually raising awareness, without inspiring action (and some resistance) through questioning embedded unhealthy practices.
Perhaps these are simply the differences between working in large organisations versus small ones. Nonetheless, we musn’t stop reflecting, is this organisation’s environmental impact merely superficial, or genuine and lasting? Does the organisation align with our values? Does being in this organisation give me space to grow as a person?
Staying so long in an organisation that I disagree with has made me disillusioned (although it has, arguably, also helped me grow). Personally, environmental work is highly meaningful because it is always, always intrinisically linked to environmental justice. So when the work becomes tainted; when the work loses its lustre and the ugly side of the capitalistic culture that is antithetical to environmentalism glows instead, the answer cannot shine clearer: go.